


Harry Potter’s Bad Hair Day

by ChronicMigraine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathrooms, Chill draco, Cute Harry, Emotional Harry Potter, Ficlet, Hair, Hogwarts Common Room, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, One Shot, SO FLUFFY, fluff overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicMigraine/pseuds/ChronicMigraine
Summary: All Harry wants is a haircut. Is that really too much to ask for?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 234





	Harry Potter’s Bad Hair Day

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, with a pair of conjured shears in one hand. Just a little bit. _Snip_.

He beamed, exhilarated. It worked. _It worked! Snip. Snip._ His hair, apparently hearing the victory beneath it, immediately shot up once again. _Not this time! Not on my watch!_

Harry wanted to cry. _Please. I just want to be able to see. Just fringe?_

 _No_!

His hair ticked his nose. It was far too long. Frustration bubbled in his chest and he nearly poked his eye out trying to bluntly chop his hair off. It was useless. It shot out again. Where the fuck was it all coming from?

“Please, goddamnit.” Harry shook the shears off his hand and buried his face in his palms. His hair wrapped itself around his hands, as if consoling him.

_Fuck off._

The bathroom door swung open. Of course it had to be Malfoy. Malfoy paused, one hand on the door handle as his right eyebrow slowly raised. He glanced at the hair covering the floor and sink, enough to cover several small villages.

Calmly, still looking at the hair, he said “Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry opened his fingers enough to peek at Malfoy’s reflection. “I’m trying to cut my hair.”

Malfoy looked at him and his calm expression cracked, leaking bemusement. “Clearly. It’s a miracle you have hair left on your head.” Malfoy stepped farther in the room, taking care not to disrupt the hair. It formed a circle around Harry, almost protecting him.

Harry rubbed at his face, weary. He hoped his puffy eyes weren’t too noticeable. It had been a rough day. He set aside his pride. “Can you help me? It won’t stay short and I just want to be able to see again.” Harry pleaded quietly.

Malfoy looked at Harry, whose lack of glasses frankly made him look like a particularly pathetic crup. It made him want to slap him and hide him at the same time. He looked heavenward, praying for patience. “Turn around, Potter. I don't have all day.”

Malfoy shut the door behind him and used his wand to shift the hair away from him. No way was he catching Potter’s fleas. Harry’s entire body relaxed and he exhaled. _It'll be okay. He’ll cut my hair and it'll leave me alone._ He nearly cried again from the sheer relief.

“Okay,” his voice wavered and Harry cursed it. _Why has his body turned against him_? “Here are the shears. I've tried spells and they haven't worked--” his voice cracked. “I tried burning it off too” he whispered. “It's been hours.”

Malfoy seriously reconsidered Potter’s sanity. “Right.” He considered Potter’s hair. It was thick, black, curly, and alive, reaching like tendrils towards his face and sticking out at the top. It curled around his neck and seemed to cling onto Potter. He carefully took the silver shears in his hand and examined them. They seemed to be muggle.

“Look straight ahead and don’t tilt your head.” He hesitated, then touched Potter’s hair. Harry felt his ears redden. _It’s okay. He’s going to fix your hair._ Malfoy sectioned out a small piece in the back and gently ran his free hand through it. He pushed it down and prepared to cut. “I’m doing it. Stay still or I’ll poke you.”

Harry grimaced. He’d already burned and cut himself nearly four times in the past hour. This was nothing. He stood still anyway. Malfoy’s face was a thing of artistic perfection. Every muscle in his face said, _I’m studying for my NEWTs, I'm a resident healer, I'm the head of the DMLE, I'm the Minister for Magic. I’m cutting Harry Potter’s hair_. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Malfoy released the section and stood back. Harry held his breath. And _nothing happened_. The newly released hair happily fluttered to the floor, joining its friends peacefully. Harry’s eyes filled with sudden tears and he wiped his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. _It worked_.

Malfoy smirked triumphantly at Harry through the mirror, standing taller. Harry swallowed thickly. “Can you do the rest?”

Malfoy set the shears down and grabbed Harry’s shoulders to spin him around, seeing his red rimmed eyes. Suddenly uncomfortable, he grabbed the sides of Harry’s head and made sure it was straight. “Stay like this.”

Harry nodded and Malfoy sighed, exasperated. “Don't move, you daft pygmy puff.” Harry gave a watery smile and sniffed.

“Are you sure it hasn't regrown?”

Malfoy checked the back through his reflection. “It hasn't.” He ran his hands through Potter’s hair, privately noting how soft it was. He could do this all day.

He adjusted Potter’s fringe. It reached his nose. Potter was still looking at him through his hair. “Stop looking at me, Potter! Merlin.” Harry quickly averted his eyes and sniffed again. Malfoy counted to five, then reached his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here. And don't give it back to me.”

Malfoy smoothed out the hair again, twisted it, and cut it. With each cut, Harry grew more emotional. _Finally gone. His hair. Finally._ When Malfoy finished his work, He stepped back and examined through narrowed eyes. Harry jammed his hands into his pockets, suddenly so grateful he could hug him.

_Oh, fuck it._

Harry spinned around and grabbed Malfoy’s hands. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he threw himself into Malfoy’s robes. “Thank you _so much_ , Malfoy,” he said emphatically.

Malfoy froze. In a historically ineloquent moment, he forgot himself and managed to wrench one hand out of Potter’s deathhold. He patted the Gryffindor awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Er- right. Let go, Potter. These robes are new. Bloody sap.” He made no effort to push him away. Harry used the opportunity to wipe his tears into Malfoy’s robes. Malfoy sighed, then raised his hand from Potter’s shoulder blade up to his hair. He ran his hands up and down, reveling in the shorter bouncy curls that clung to him. His hair sung. _How good it felt to be loved and free_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please let me know! Thanks for reading :)


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